On a late-spring afternoon, the wind carried plane-tree fluff through the streets of the old town. Eren clutched the crumpled pay slip in his pocket as he slowly made his way toward Clock Alley in the city center. It was his third month of work since graduation. As a copy editor at a small publishing house, he pored over densely written manuscripts late into the night, squeezed onto the subway during the morning and evening rush hours, and learned to handle the countless little demands of working life. He was like a fledgling fresh from the nest, flustered as he learned to face life on his own. Today, though, he was going to fulfill a wish he had cherished for a long time-buying a mechanical watch of his own.
Eren had never wanted a watch to keep up with other people or impress anyone. What lay behind that wish was a longing he had carried for years. When he was fifteen, his father had been transferred to a job far away. Before leaving, his father took off the old mechanical watch he had worn for more than a decade and placed it in Eren's palm. It was an old Shanghai Brand watch, its dark brown leather strap worn and fraying at the edges, its silver dial glowing with a gentle sheen. Once wound, it ticked steadily and clearly, like his father's calm heartbeat. His father stroked his head and said, "Eren, when Dad isn't around, you have to learn to look after yourself. Time moves steadily, and you should make your way through life steadily too. Don't panic, and don't lose your bearings."
After that, the old watch stayed with Eren throughout his teenage years, through nights spent working on practice questions and early mornings preparing for exams. Even with